O my Son, know this concerning the Black Brothers, them that exult: I am I. This is Falsity and Delusion, for the Law endureth not Exception. So then these Brethern are not apart, as they vainly think being wrought by Error; but are peculiar Combinations of Nature in Her Variety. Rejoice then even in the Contemplation of these, for they are proper to Perfection, and Adornments of Beauty, like a Mole upon the Cheek of a Woman. Shall I then say that were it of thine own Nature, even thine, to compose so sinister a Complex, thou shouldst not strive therewith, destroying it by Love, but continue in that Way? I deny not this hastily, nor affirm; nay, shall I even utter a Hint of that which I may foresee? For it is in mine own Nature to think that in this Matter the Sum of Wisdom is Silence. But this I say, and that boldly, that thou shalt not look upon this Horror with Fear, or with Hate, but accept all this as thou dost all else, as a Phenomenon of Change, that is, of Love. For in a swift Stream thou mayst behold a Twig held steady for a while by the Play of the Water, and by this Analogue thou mayst understand the Nature of this Mystery of the Path of Perfection.
